CHAPTER 164: CHAPTER 164: SIS, IT’S COLD OUT

Justin Holden looked at Jean Ellison’s excited expression and was silent for a moment before speaking.

"You’re really different from her."

Jean knew he was talking about Claire Caldwell.

She immediately retorted, "Of course we’re different. The things she did, I would never do any of them."

Justin keenly caught the information in her words and asked, "You seem to know a lot about what happened between me and her? You only met her a few times in prison, and she told you that much?"

Jean’s heart tightened, realizing she misspoke, and quickly covered it up.

"I guessed it. She didn’t tell me any specific things."

She paused, her tone carrying a hint of reproach.

"But I can see she’s been heartbroken by you."

Justin pursed his lips tightly and said no more.

Just then, there was a cautious knock and inquiry from Aunt Mason outside the door.

"Young Master Holden? Have you finished eating? I’m here to clear the dishes."

Jean knew Aunt Mason was worried about her, which was why she came over deliberately.

She no longer looked at Justin, turned around and opened the door, saying to Aunt Mason, "Aunt Mason, I was just about to head back."

Aunt Mason gave Jean a quick once-over, seeing that although her eyes were still a bit red, nothing seemed wrong, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright, alright, then let’s go back."

Returning to the neighboring apartment, Aunt Mason took the empty lunch boxes to the kitchen to wash.

Jean followed her in. "Aunt Mason, let me wash these."

Aunt Mason quickly waved her hand, "Oh, Miss, how can this be? How can you do such a thing!"

Jean had already rolled up her sleeves, her tone calm.

"There’s nothing wrong with it. When I was in prison, I often had to wash dishes, do fieldwork, and sew clothes."

Aunt Mason, listening, felt her eyes reddening with heartache.

Jean, however, smiled, as if comforting her.

"I learned a lot there, you know, I even learned how to knit sweaters. That sweater vest Jesse is wearing was made by me."

Aunt Mason wiped the corners of her eyes and sighed.

"If the master hadn’t had that accident, he would have figured out a way to get you out on bail, never letting you suffer like that inside."

Jean’s dishwashing paused for a moment, the sound of water rushing over the dishes echoing.

She said softly, "Yes, but at the time Dad was already gone."

She was silent for a while, then, as if admonishing herself, clearly stated, "Aunt Mason, I now believe that the only truly reliable man in this world is Dad."

Aunt Mason opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, but then swallowed it back down.

She recalled when trouble first struck the Caldwell family—it was as if the tree had fallen and the monkeys scattered. The relatives and friends who usually visited frequently now avoided them like the plague, and no one dared to come over. Only Justin came.

He wore a black suit, his face solemn, yet very composed.

He briefly explained a few things, saying he had arranged for Ms. Susan Kingston to stay in a secluded private nursing home, and he would handle the expenses.

He then looked at Aunt Mason, suggesting she quickly go abroad to find her son, and not return to Kingswell soon.

At that time, Aunt Mason didn’t fully understand his intentions.

It wasn’t until later, when the door of the empty Caldwell mansion was vandalized with huge red characters like "Murderer must pay with life" and "Heartless dealer," and the windows often shattered by stones at night.

Angry investors and ignorant people surrounded the area, yelling incessantly.

Only then did she realize the true significance of Justin’s suggestion.

She was grateful that Miss was already in prison; otherwise, who knows what more terrifying things those out-of-control people would have done to her.

These past events flashed through her mind; she looked at Jean, quietly washing dishes, and ultimately decided not to say anything.

Some things, perhaps, are better left unknown.

Suddenly, Jean’s phone rang, breaking the somewhat heavy atmosphere in the kitchen.

She dried her hands, walked into the living room, and answered the call.

"Jean, it’s me, Philip Paxton."

On the other end came Philip Paxton’s steady voice.

"Officer Paxton, do you have any news?" Jean’s heart lifted.

"Yes, we’ve found some clues."

Philip’s tone had the rigor of being on duty.

"We re-examined Miles Morgan’s activities back then and found that he rushed back to his hometown in Sudland Province overnight, and it might not have been just for a family visit."

He paused, emphasizing his words.

"Based on the limited traffic monitoring and communication records at that time, it’s highly likely he went to meet someone."

"Who?" Jean pressed on.

"Ronan Sutton, the second young master of the Sutton Group."

"The Sutton Group?" Jean repeated the name in surprise, "Uncle Sutton’s company?"

The founder of the Sutton Group, Gregory Sutton, was her father Timothy Caldwell’s long-time friend, both akin to sworn brothers.

When Jean was a child, Uncle Sutton often visited her home, drinking merrily with her father, and their relationship was very close.

Her father also often helped him in business, introducing many important clients to him.

But later, the Sutton family emigrated to the United States, and contact gradually waned.

If she remembered correctly, the Sutton family should now be living in New York.

"Yes, it’s Gregory Sutton’s second son, Ronan Sutton." Philip Paxton confirmed, "The timing is very subtle. On the night Mr. Caldwell had his accident, Miles Morgan secretly went to see Brian Sutton. It’s quite unusual."

Jean Ellison’s mind raced.

Why, at the sensitive moment of her father’s suicide, did her father’s most trusted assistant secretly meet with the son of her father’s best friend?

"Officer Paxton, can you give me the exact address of the Sutton family in the United States?" Jean immediately asked, her voice urgent.

On the other side of the phone, Philip Paxton hesitated for a moment, clearly concerned: "Jean, I have a task on hand recently and can’t go abroad. I don’t recommend you going to the Sutton family alone. This matter might be deeply entangled, and it’s too dangerous for you to go by yourself. It’s better to wait until I arrange for someone to accompany you for safety."

He added, his tone serious: "The situation in the United States is different from here, their gun control is lax, I wouldn’t feel at ease with you going there unannounced."

"I want the address." Jean’s attitude was exceptionally firm, almost with no room for negotiation, "Officer Paxton, please send me the address."

Understanding her character, knowing that further persuasion would be useless, Philip Paxton had to relent.

"...Fine, I’ll send the address I found to your phone later. But Jean, promise me, you won’t visit them alone. You must take someone with you to ensure your safety."

"Okay, I promise you." Jean replied, "I’m currently staying at Aunt Mason’s, her son is also in New York, he will help me, you don’t have to worry."

After hanging up the phone, Jean stood still, frowning, lost in the shocking information she had just received.

Aunt Mason came out of the kitchen, a worried look on her face.

She had obviously overheard part of the conversation.

"Miss..." Aunt Mason’s voice trembled slightly, "Why are you still investigating this case? Wasn’t it already closed?"

Jean raised her head, looking at Aunt Mason, her eyes filled with unprecedented seriousness and determination.

"Aunt Mason, do you really believe that so-called financial fraud case is something my father and I did?"

Aunt Mason shook her head immediately, her tone agitated: "Of course not! I know exactly what kind of person Sir was, he was honest, trustworthy, he would never do such an outrageous thing, and Miss, you absolutely wouldn’t either, you’re just a student, never involved in company affairs."

"Yes." Jean’s voice lowered, with a hint of bitterness, "Dad wasn’t that kind of person, neither am I. Yet we are burdened with such a crime."

Her gaze became firm again.

"That’s why I must find out the truth. Dad can’t die in vain, and I can’t wear this criminal label forever."

Aunt Mason looked at her, eyes full of heartache and deeper unease.

"Miss, I know it’s hard for you, wanting to seek justice for Sir."

"But those who can wrong the Caldwell family and push Sir to the brink are definitely not ordinary people, their influence must be significant. I’m worried that digging further will place you in danger."

Jean grasped Aunt Mason’s rough hand, feeling the warmth and concern the old lady conveyed, she spoke softly yet firmly: "Aunt Mason, I know it’s dangerous. But I have no choice. If I don’t uncover the truth, I’ll never be at peace in my life."

After receiving the address from Philip Paxton, Jean did not inform Aunt Mason or Diana Sawyer, and set off alone at dawn the next day.

The address was located in a secluded hillside community in the northern part of New York State, far from the city.

She drove the entire day, stopping only briefly at rest areas.

By the time she reached the entrance of the community known as "Cloudtop" at the foot of the mountain, it was already early the next morning.

Sunlight filtered through the tall trees, the air was crisp and cold.

She parked the car at a small open-air parking lot not far from the community.

Continuous driving made her feel weary, and her stomach was painfully empty.

She noticed a breakfast stand at the edge of the parking lot, with a simple canopy, steaming hot food.

Upon closer inspection, she discovered they were selling Chinese breakfast buns.

The stand was clean, with white steam rising gracefully in the cold morning air.

The vendor was a very young Asian man, probably around twenty-two or twenty-three years old, younger than Jean.

He was wearing a clean white hoodie, with a dark apron over it, his build lean and upright.

He was quietly arranging the steamer baskets, moving with unhurried precision, his fingers long and clean.

"One pork and green onion bun." Jean said as she approached the stand.

The young man looked up at the sound of her voice.

His face was very handsome, his skin fair, with distinct eyebrows and eyes, a straight nose, and well-shaped lips.

Most notable were his eyes, clear and possessing an unexpected maturity for his age, lingering momentarily on Jean’s face.

"Okay." He replied, his voice clear and bright.

He opened the steamer, a wave of steam hitting their faces.

Using a clean food tong, he skillfully picked up a plump white bun, then took out a piece of oil-proof paper, carefully lined it, and handed the bun to her.

His cautious manner suggested he was handling something delicate, not a mere two-dollar bun.

Jean took the bun, paid the money.

Famished, she stood by the stand and began to eat in small bites.

The bun was thin-skinned, generously filled, and surprisingly tasty.

The young man watched her eat, then handed over a sealed cup of warm soy milk: "Sis, it’s cold in the morning, have something warm to drink."

His sudden address of her as ’Sis’ and offering soybean milk caught Jean by surprise, but she accepted it: "Thank you."

The young man leaned casually against the counter, hands in his apron pockets, his demeanor relaxed, his gaze resting on Jean, with a subtle hint of scrutiny.

A faint smile curled at his lips.

"Why did you come up the mountain?" he asked, his tone as casual as if making small talk, "There aren’t usually many new faces here. Are you visiting a friend?"

Chewing the bun, Jean responded with a simple "Mm," offering no further detail.

She wore a simple beige trench coat, her long hair tied behind her, revealing a smooth forehead and a graceful neck line.

Despite the exhaustion from the long drive, she stood there with a slight air of aloofness, her delicate features strikingly beautiful in the morning light.

The young man observed her cool profile and cautious demeanor, the amusement in his eyes deepening.

His gaze carried an understanding and curiosity beyond his years, strangely harmonizing with his clean, youthful presence.

He refrained from asking more, simply watching as she slowly finished the bun and drank half the cup of soy milk.